


The Winter Burrow

by WritLarge



Series: The Winter Burrow [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Family History, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Jack Needs a Hug, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/3036.html?thread=6700252#cmt6700252">For this prompt: </a>
  <br/><i>Jack has a hidey hole in the warren, one part of the warren is a frosted area just for him; however, only the sentry and eggs know about it. Bunnymund kinda of doesn't have a clue its there and has been there since ’69.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Still Mad?

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to work on writing first person perspective and this seemed like a interesting prompt to try that with.
> 
> Rated Gen but some language on the level of Hell and Damn.

“Whoa!” This is creepy. Ignored for centuries and suddenly I have stalker. Something whips by and rattles the leaves of the trees. Gah! I manage to track whoever it is to an alley and then, standing in the shadows… 

“Hello, Mate.”

Bunny? 

“Been a long time. Blizzard of 68, I believe? Easter Sunday, wasn't it?” Damn. Guess that’s still a sore spot. Still, no boomerang to the head yet. Why is he here? There are only a few days until Easter. He never leaves the warren when it’s this close.

“Bunny! You’re not still mad about that, are you?’ I wonder if he’s found it.

“Yes.” Bunny practically growls his answer. Oh, crap. This is what I get for being such a coward. I should have told him- “But this is about something else.” 

What? 

“Fellas…” Bunny is smirking, eyeing his boomerang. That’s never a good sign.

“Hey!” The massive hand on my shoulder grips painfully and lifts me off the ground. A Yeti? What the hell? Since when does Bunny hang out with Yetis? “Put me down! What the…”

“Ooof.” Annnnd I’m in a sack. I try to escape, kicking at the rough fabric, but it’s strong. This sucks. At least I still have my staff. This is not at all how I expected our next meeting to go. Surly Bunny is pretty standard, but being kidnapped and thrown in a sack by Yetis – seriously?

The yetis mutter something incomprehensible. Where are they taking me? I grip my staff, ready to try and blast my way out, when I hear Bunny again.

“Me? Not on your nelly. See you back at the pole.” The pole? The North Pole? Well, that’s new. Usually they’re throwing me out. 

More yetish and I can feel them heave and throw the bag. The sudden and intense pulling sensation sucking at my insides is just a little terrifying.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” 

When I’m standing in the workshop later, I’m actually kinda relieved.

My secret is safe.


	2. Easter '69

This is probably a bad idea. But I want to see him again, just once. And if he stays long enough to listen, well, that would be nice too.

It hadn’t been entirely my fault last year. The Easter Bunny sure was mad though. Those boomerangs are faster than they look. It’s hard to apologize when you’re trying to avoid a concussion. Not that I’m a much of a conversationalist. I don’t get to speak to many other people, or giant rabbits for that matter. 

Sighing out a breath of cold, I keep scanning the yards below. My perch near the top of a large oak gives a pretty good view of the neighbourhood. If I can just find him… I figure if I watch closely enough, I’ll catch him leaving eggs. A lot of families live in this area.

There!

Swooping low, I’m just in time to see a perfectly round tunnel swirl shut, leaving behind a cheerful looking tulip. I touch down briefly and then I’m up on the wind. Dawn is fast on my heels and I’m careful not to leave behind any frost. I’ll try again in the next town west of here.

Three towns later, the Easter Bunny shows no sign of slowing down, so fleet on his feet he’s nearly flying. I manage to catch the edge of a portal just as it’s closing. I half expect to wedge it open, but instead, I’m yanked through, tumbling down. When I come to a stop, the spirit is long gone and there’s no exit in sight. 

Looking around, I realize that I’m underground. I can’t feel the wind here. Is this how he does it? I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity, so while the Easter Bunny is out, I decide to explore.

Turns out, this place is huge. A massive network of tunnels and rooms split off from one soaring central domain. It’s lush and has that just barely there warmth of spring. It feels good. There are a few little eggs with legs tottering around, but they don’t seem to mind me. It’s the tall, grim looking stone eggs that are much more menacing. I’ve never needed to be stealthy, so I botch avoiding them completely by ducking into a side tunnel and smacking into one.

Ow.

The stone guardian vibrates a little, its frowning face looming. For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. If I freeze it, the Easter Bunny will know exactly who was here, and that doesn’t seem like the best way to make a good impression. Especially considering the last time. Then again, the giant egg is probably going to rat me out anyway. Before I can make up my mind, the egg moves. The top half of grinds and turns. Now the face is pleasant. Huh.

After that, the other sentries shift too. As if they’re welcoming me. It’s a strange feeling.

I really, really like it here.

Which is why it’s so hard when he eventually gets back.

The Easter Bunny is obviously tired and not in the mood to talk. I settle on an outcropping overlooking the vastness below, and can hear his rumblings floating up through the air.

“Well, that was good run, I think.” The master of the realm stretches and yawns, not looking like any other rabbit I’ve ever seen. Wow. “Better than last year, at any rate, without that bloody Jack Frost.”

Bloody Jack Frost. I bite my lip. Maybe I should wait another year? Or five? I can feel myself sag back against the rock face. The disappointment is worse than being walked through. It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to. I was really hoping… Well. He’s asleep now. I can show myself out.

Only, I have no idea how to open one of those tunnels. The Easter Bunny sleeps pretty soundly, so that goes in my favour, but all I can find are tunnel ends and heavy, sealed stone doors. Hours of searching produce more of the same. I do discover that some areas of the Warren (one of the things I learn from the rabbit’s sleepy mumblings) are warmer than others, and avoid them. Others are clearly long abandoned and disused. 

Well if I can’t escape, I might as well make myself at home. I’m not about to wake a cranky Easter Bunny and ask for directions, that’s for sure. Tucking myself away in the dustiest, quietest burrow end I can find, I frost over the walls and curl up. Winter’s over anyway. Might as well rest before fessing up and facing the boomerang. 

I never can seem to work up the courage to talk to him, but the stone guardians take pity on me and show me how to come and go.

Bunny never finds the Winter Burrow.


	3. In the Aftermath of Pitch Black

In the sleigh, we’re all a bit giddy, I think. Maybe that happens when you win? The heat of Jamie’s hug lingers, making me smile. I really hadn’t expected him to do that. I wish spring were a little further off, but it’s here. Another snow day would be too out of place now. 

Baby Tooth is sitting proudly on my shoulder. She’s helped so much, even after I nearly got her killed. I’ve never really felt bad about getting someone into trouble before, it’s kinda my thing, but it’s weighing on me. Guilt, I guess. That “Reckless” tag sounds a lot less like “Carefree” and a lot more like “Dangerous” now. Bunny had a point there, even if he was being a jerk, but things are going to be different. I know they are.

I can feel Baby Tooth start to shiver, so I tear myself away from watching Burgess fade into the night. Now that it’s over, my whole body feels like one big bruise thanks to Pitch. He probably hurt her too.

“Hey, Tooth?” Toothiana turns from where she’s been chatting with North. I scoop the fairy off my shoulder and gently hold her out. She stares up at me, hurt. “Aww. Don’t look at me like that. Pitch hurled you pretty hard, didn’t he? Let Tooth take a look.”

“Oh! Oh, Baby Tooth. Let me see.” Toothiana cradles her close, smoothing down her feathers gently, like a mother. I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and sink down next to Bunny, tooth box rattling in my pocket.

“Ya all right, mate? You look done in.” The energy I had a few minutes ago seems to seep away into the upholstery. Man, I’m tired. “Hey, now. Don’t fall asleep yet.”

“We are almost there!” North cries. “I have rooms for everyone. Yetis will see to injuries, yes?” The Russian turns back to his driving, but Sandy and Toothiana make noises of dissent.

“Oh no. I can’t, North. I mean, it isn’t that I don’t want to spend time with you. Especially not after all this. We should definitely talk more. There’s just so much to do! We’re behind. The Palace. The Tooth Boxes! And all the fairies Pitch held, they’ll need to be tended…” 

Wow, she really can talk a mile a minute. She’s right though. She has responsibilities. Judging by Sandy’s flashing signs, he can’t stay long either. All that time Pitch suppressed him must have created a big mess.

“Yes. Yes, fine. But Jack and Bunny. You will come?” North looks back at us hopefully. 

“Umm, yea-” The yawn that forces its way out interrupts me. “Yeah. Sure. Bed sounds good.”

“And yetis.” North emphasizes. Do I look that bad? I must, because Bunny grimaces and nods.

“Yeah, you’re in no shape to go home alone, ya Larrikin.” Home. My burrow. Suddenly, I’m a lot more awake. How am I going to explain that?

“And you, Bunny? You will join us also?” North prods again. 

“In case ya missed it, the Warren’s a disaster. I have work to do too.”

“Bah - Easter is finished! You have time. A whole year!” I wince along with Bunny. Tactful, North is not. It has the desired affect though. Bunny wilts a little and agrees. “Good! We need to stick together. Rest, then work. We can start at Palace.”

“Really!? That would be so helpful. I can hardly think where to begin. Rebuilding and catching up and …” Tooth babbles on and her voice starts to blend into the background noise. I can’t remember the last time I slept. Certainly not since before I was Jack-napped to the Pole. Weariness is settling in again and my eyes feel heavy. 

“Frostbite?” A tentative arm curls around my shoulders, tightening to hold me in place when the sleigh dips, banking sharply. “You’re gonna fall over.”

North levels out and Bunny’s grip releases, though his arm remains. It’s nice.

“Anything we need to check on for ya?”

I shake my head and lean into his warmth. I’ll tell him later.


	4. Helping Hands

Having friends is pretty amazing, but I’m beginning to feel distinctly smothered. A surprising number of yetis are prone to hovering. None of them have any kind of bedside manner. Worse still, Phil’s as determined to keep me _in_ the room I’ve been given as he used to be at keeping me _out_ of the workshop. And the looks of horror I got when I opened a window! The heated rooms are a bit out of my comfort zone, ok? Maybe they expected me to try and fly off, but nope, my cracked ribs and I are grounded for a while yet. 

I think today I might get paroled, though. Phil had made a don’t-get-any-ideas face when he gave me back my clothes earlier. They hadn’t taken my staff. Not sure I would’ve been able to handle that. Not after- well. Anyway, when Phil opens the door, I’m sitting dressed, with my staff over my lap. I am so ready to be free of this room. Ribs aside, I’m not an invalid.

The yeti is grumbling to someone behind him and raises his paw so that I don’t stand up when he comes inside. Bunny follows. Looking up at him in surprise, I can see a little half grin on his face. Phil glares at me and then burbles something in yetish that probably translates to “He’s your problem now” and stalks away.

Not an early release then, just a new warden. Great.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” I protest, sliding off the bed and scowling. Scowling, dammit! Bunny just laughs at me.

“Never said ya did, Jackie. I’m sure you’re fine, but Phil’s nerves won’t handle letting you fling yourself out the window after just having patched you up. You’ll get no anxious hovering from me. Now come on. Let’s get this over with.” 

A lot of the tension that had built up between us since the Guardians first dragged me to the workshop is muted now. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bunny were still upset over the Easters, but I remember the look of grateful amazement when Jamie had told him what I’d done for his belief. Maybe it was partly that or just the flush of victory, but the after battle snow ball free for all left everybody grinning, even Bunny with his snow spattered his fur. Anyway, it’s a lot calmer between us and I don’t want to rock that boat.

North’s prepared a snow globe. It isn’t Bunny’s preference, I know, but he seems resigned to it. With my ribs still healing from the encounter with Pitch in Antarctica, and a globe is probably the smoothest way for us to get Tooth’s Palace. 

“To Tooth’s then?” Bunny looks at me, holding the glowing orb in one palm. “Ya don’t want to head home for a bit first?”

“W-what? No.” A bit of nervous energy makes me rip over my words. That’s the last thing I want right now, more time to think. I need to _do_ something. There’s still too much of a mess and I’m not too proud to admit that a lot of it’s mine. “Let’s go.”

“Right.” The globe smashes brilliantly against the wall, casting dancing shadows across the room. Bunny gestures for me to go first, placing a hand on my back as we go through the portal. The transition is a little disorientating. 

“Ugh.” His firm pressure keeps me moving until we’re clear. “Thanks.”

“No worries, mate.” He pats my shoulder. “Bloody things always feel a bit off without North around.”

It’s the heat that hits me first and then the smell, a mix of warm spices and an oddly sour scent. Looking up, I can already see the colour seeping back into what’s left of the palace. It kind of… glitters? Glimmers? Something magical. 

Not that it’s fixing itself, exactly. There’s still jagged holes and crumbling brickwork all over the place. Little tooth fairies are zipping around with teeth, back to work despite the mess. We follow them to find Tooth in one of the more stable remaining tiers, commanding her troops with a speed that blurs her words together.

“Hi guys. _Campinas, Brazil. RuaAlbertoJacksonByington, n° 363, Rapidamente! – Ela é lançada o dente para fora da janela._ Aster, could you helpwiththemurals and _Birmingham, England. 45ShapDrive_ Jack, I don’tsupposeyou’d be up for sortingtoothboxes?” Tooth actually manages to pause here until I answer.

“Uh, sure. No problem.” Tooth boxes. I can handle that. Man, I’m glad she’s gotten them back somehow. Pitch’s lair claims the top spot on my list of places to forget exist.

“I’ll show him where.” Bunny nods at her and Tooth beams, even as she’s already back issuing orders.

“ _MontrealCanada. 1287 BoulevarddesSeigneurs #2._ Thankyou! _5230 Odense M, Denmark…_ ”

“So,” I begin, hesitating at the edge of a tier that Bunny seems to be judging the distance of. The stairs are gone, if there were ever any to begin with. “Aster, huh?”

“Yup. E. Aster Bunnymund, as a matter of fact.” He looks at me, and then my ribs, rather pointedly. “C’mere.”

“What, why?” 

“Don’t be a nelly. You can’t jump down there.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and instead scoops me up. We’re in the air in an instant and I absolutely do not a) let out a manly squeak, or b) clutch at Bunny’s fur. Damn that’s a lot of muscle for a rabbit. Although, having poked around his Warren a bit over the years, I’m pretty sure he’s less of an actual bunny and more just conveniently bunny-shaped.

He lands and hops across another gap. I barely feel the impact when he touches down and I’m on my feet before I even realize he’s stopped.

Whoa. 

“There. Safe as houses.” Bunny steps back and crosses his arms smugly.

“Not. An. Invalid.” I turn and swung my staff up to point at him and, “Ow. Damn.” His eyes go wide and he grabs my shoulders when I sway and clutch my side.

“Take it easy, Frostbite. Never had cracked ribs before, yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, no.” Wow, that really hurts. I suck in a breath and pain shoots across my side like I’m being stabbed with a fire iron.

“Shallow breaths, mate. Sit down.” With Bunny guiding me, I take a few steps backward blindly until he helps me slowly sit. We stay there for a few minutes in silence. It takes a bit, but the pain does start to fade. Next to me, his presence doesn’t feel overbearing like the yetis. Instead, it’s steady and reassuring. 

“E. Aster?” He glances at me and nods. I sound it out in my head. “You’re named after Easter? What’s the E stand for?” His ears twitch and I can tell he’s a bit irked.

“Other way ‘round, mate. And none of your concern.” Ha. E is for embarrassing, apparently. “Aster is fine.” 

“Awwww. That’s just makes me wanna know more.” That earns me a glare.

“Get used to disappointment, Jackie.” He growls out his response, but there’s no heat in it. It makes me snicker, setting off my ribs again. Aster shakes his head in exasperation, but he remains until I’m well off enough to stand. Showing me where the tooth boxes belong, empty slots accompanied by mounds of golden containers, he finally leaves and we both get to work.


	5. Pushing Through

Bunny works on restoring the murals while I have the mind numbingly dull, yet undemanding, job of slotting boxes back into place. At first, I can hear his muttering over colours and unstable mortar, punctuated here and there when he curses Pitch. Eventually, he moves off to another area and I’m left with humming wings and the pattering of tiny feet as background noise. Baby Tooth must be around somewhere and I’m fairly confident she’ll ambush me at some point.

The sorting would be much worse if I needed to match each box to a specific slot. Thankfully, as a couple of excitedly chirping fairies explain, it’s mostly about geography. They peer over my shoulder a bit until they’re satisfied that I’m not completely incompetent, and then flitter off to prep another section. They must want to keep me out of the way, because I’ve been entrusted with the archival stores, way outside the more active levels. Apparently, as long as I get the right general area and have the pictures facing out, it’ll do for now. 

I’ve started noticing flocks of fairies and groups of mice dart by, carting materials and tools. Several of the mice appear to be wearing tiny parachutes. I figure they must have been drafted by Tooth to get some of the more major repairs started, to connect the tiers and provide better shelter. The Palace has a sort of radiating magic of its own, not unlike the Warren or the Workshop, which makes me really curious about Sandy’s place. The growing magical energy seems to be finding its way back home. I wonder if the buildings remember? Tooth is the Guardian of Memories - maybe the Palace knows its shape and is trying to put itself to rights?

I stretch gingerly after finishing off the current section and crack my neck. It’s warm enough here to be uncomfortable. I’m trying not to let it get to me. Closing my eyes, I call and the wind picks up a little, breezing past. It helps. I can’t maintain it though, not without interfering with the fairies flight paths and disrupting Tooth’s flow. Oh well.

Another massive heap looms before me and I get back into motion. I’ve placed over hundred at least when I lift a box and the rest of the pile shifts, boxes clinking together in a long slide. The sound reverberates in my head, darkness tunneling my vision. A pit gapes open in my stomach. Suddenly I can smell the dampness of the cavern, desperation and panic pressing down, shadows on all sides. The hum of fairy wings buzzes unpleasantly in the air. _You make a mess wherever you go_. I drop the box and try to calm down, stumbling back, but my breathing turns harsh and my ribs scream in agony. 

_Happy Easter, Jack._

I think I’m going to be sick.

In a burst of colour and sensation, Baby Tooth zips by, flying in close enough to brush my cheek and ruffle my hair as she’s twittering a simultaneous hello/goodbye. It startles me so much that I lose my footing and land on my ass.

It takes a few minutes for my hands to stop shaking.

My ribs still throb, but I push myself up again and get back to work. I’m a bit nauseous, but for once I’m driven to create order instead of chaos. The fairies deserve that much from me.

As the hours pass and the heap dwindles, I’m careful to keep my own tooth box safely in the pocket of my hoodie. I’m not ready to give it back just yet, but I haven’t found the right time either. I know I haven’t seen everything inside. When I opened it in Antarctica, it was like being hit by an avalanche. I only got glimpses of most of the memories that flew by. Not my death though. Jack Frost may not suffer the cold, but Jackson Overland remembers the shocking ice water closing overhead like it happened yesterday.

In private, at home and in my own den, maybe then I’ll open it again. A voice in the back of my mind rears up then to scold me that it’s Aster’s Warren. My winter burrow is just a stolen bit of ice and dirt that he hasn’t found out about yet. Another mess, courtesy of yours truly. 

Sighing, I can’t imagine a way out of this that doesn’t involve a lot of yelling and hurt feelings. Maybe if I abandon the burrow and never go back? No. As tempting as it is, we can’t start a friendship that way. Not a real friendship. I press my forehead against the cool metal framework. As badly as I’ve always wanted it, attempting to be Aster’s friend, hoping to have that, is kind of terrifying. He’s just always been so prickly and private, and I’m not…

“Hey, mate.” Dammit. I curse myself for being so oblivious to my surroundings. I know I’ve gone stiff but I manage not to jerk around in surprise. Aster leans against the far wall, dust and paint marring his fur. “I’m done and heading home for now. Reckon the rest can be handled by Tooth’s troops and my tunnels are in a sorry state.“

Still likely filled with crushed eggs, pastel shards of shell littering the grass and dirt. I can’t imagine the sentinels would be much help in cleaning. Any remaining googies are probably still scared senseless from the attack; they aren’t that bright to begin with. I should offer to help, but I don't.

“Umm, okay. I’m going to stay for a while yet.” I motion at the dozen or so teetering box piles left. Hopefully I’ll finish the lot of them before I’m bored to death. I expect a nod or a shrug. Instead, Aster is watching me with a suspicious gleam that’s a little disconcerting.

“Got a place to kip, Jackie?”

“Uh-“ Ever so eloquent, that’s me.

“Sleep. Rest. Where do ya go when you’re not messin’ about?” I can’t repress flinching at that, so I move to select another golden container and hope he doesn’t notice. 

“Oh, well. Here and there. You know me, Kangaroo. Always on the move.” My grin’s a bit shaky, but it holds. 

“Uh-huh.” Bunny says, staring at me for a moment. Then he breaks eye contact moves to stand beside me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, if ya need a place to stay you can come by the Warren, providing you can keep your snow days to yourself.”

My heart slams so far up into my throat I think I might choke. Did he just- ? 

“O-Okay. Thanks, Aster.” I keep my gaze firmly on my task, because if I turn and look at him, I’m probably going to spill my guts in a spectacularly pathetic way.

“See you around, all right?”

“Right.” And then he’s gone.


	6. Wanting To Know You

I’m not going to the Warren. 

Baby Tooth comes by again, only briefly because Tooth seems to have appointed her foreman or something, insistently squeaking at a few other fairies until they go wide eyed and begin fetching me ice water on a frequent basis. I can sleep just about anywhere and food turns up all the time, so I’m good for a few days. Even the ache in my ribs slowly eases. But when I finally conquer the mounds they originally gave me, and start wandering into other areas, the fairies hurriedly shoo me away and up to their mistress.

With belief back in full force, and a little help getting jump started, the Palace is almost rebuilding itself. Gleaming metal spires reach into the sky and I realize just how dizzyingly high up we are. The scent has changed too. The sourness is gone and there’s a combination of sweet and savoury spice in the air that makes my mouth water. I’m not sure how much or even if I really need to eat, but I do enjoy it.

One quick exam later and Tooth kicks me out, stuffing me with tiny samosas and extracting promises about flossing. 

“Go home, Jack. We’re fine. _Casper, Wyoming, U.S.A. 561 S Park Street_ I’ll see you at North’s next month.” And that’s that. I’m looking forward to the meeting, though it isn’t for another three weeks. I have an open invitation, but won’t bother North and the yetis until then. I’m pretty sure they’ve had their fill of me for a while. 

Instead I tentatively let the wind gather under me and take me up. Not too bad. I let the current carry me higher, blowing north towards the Pamir mountains, avoiding any turbulence. My ribs still hurt, but it’s manageable and I need to properly cool down. That, and I do my best thinking when I’m flying.

So I soar through the fading light, thinking about a lot of things, but avoiding the fact that, not knowing I’ve been trespassing in his home for more than forty years, Aster has actually invited me to stay with him. ‘Cause that’s not a guilty knife in my gut _at all_.

Aster. The name fits him better than Bunny does. I had wondered. I mean, he’s big and furry, and has ears and a cottontail… but thinking about him as a rabbit is strange. Like calling a volcano a mountain, something different simmers underneath.

Rabbits aren’t native to Australia, I checked. The symbols in his burrow are unique too. I travel a lot and no script or symbolism I’ve ever seen matches up. And sometimes, when he’s really focused on something, he sings in a language that’s really… wow. Tooth and Sandy are human shaped, though clearly not human, so why would bunny shaped Aster actually be or have ever been a bunny? Why would a rabbit, even a big bipedal one, bother with clothes for that matter? I mean, he doesn’t wear them now, but he’s got a closet with pants and shirts and this vivid green coat with gold egg shaped buttons.

I’d had to learn stealth to further explore the Warren. I’m on good terms with the eggs and sentinels, who seem to take my presence for granted now, but Aster has an uncanny sense of his home. More than once I’d touched down briefly on the grass, only to have to leap into the air and hide as Bunny loped into view and sniffed the air curiously. Perching on rock or my staff doesn’t trigger the same alarm bells. Luckily for me, the wind has been a close companion since the Man in the Moon woke me up and I discovered that the slight breeze let in by one of the tunnels opening would often tingle across my skin. That’s when I knew it was safe to explore.

A lot of it makes sense, plants grown for pigments, googies and other work, rivers and pools that burst with colour. The extensive gardens are vast. The main burrow looks like it belongs in a picture book, carved wood and chiseled stone so dedicated to their spring theme they almost seem alive. And I still can’t figure out how an underground Warren is filled with sunlight. All of that, amazing as it is, matches up perfectly with being the home of the Easter Bunny. The odd little machines in dusty tunnel ends and the alien-esque language that fills the books in the library? Not so much. I’m too terrified of being caught out to borrow any books, but some of them have the most incredible illustrations…

So, I know the Warren fairly well by now, but in the decades since I tumbled inside, opportunities for studying its owner have been harder to come by. Following him outside was the only option, though if the air was too warm or dry when he opened a tunnel, I turned back. I definitely wanted to avoid a day trip to the Serengeti for example. It’s easier to watch him on the surface than it is at home. Floating along, I can stay unnoticed in the wind, out of the range of most of his senses.

Bunny often went out to paint or sketch, admiring fields of tulips near Lisse or the flowing rock of Antelope Canyon. I get to see a lot of places I didn’t realize existed. Most of my travels are through the deepest parts of winter in places like Russia, Northern Europe, Canada and America. I’ve ventured into a few other areas, mountain ranges and so on, just to explore. I’d never been to any countries in the southern hemisphere before following Bunny’s tunnels though. That’s how I found out about Antarctica. Also, as far as I’m concerned, Aster can keep Australia, because New Zealand is _amazing_ – glaciers and mountains are way better than kangaroo infested desert.

Once though, when Bunny set himself up in Newfoundland to watch an iceberg glide by in morning light, I chanced a closer look at him. The air was cold and scented strongly with the sea. Finding a perch on the rocky terrain hadn’t been hard and I must have sat there for a couple hours at least. At first, he’d been intent and confident, sketching with coloured pastels in shades of grey, white and blue, filling page after page. Slowly, he’d changed. Drawing tapering off, he stilled and just… watched.

Up until then, I’d mostly seen him at work, ever practical and optimistic if a bit staid. But there, in the cool morning light, he seemed melancholy. Solitary. 

Alone. 

That moment was the closest I came to outing myself. I actually hopped down from where I’d been concealed and steeled myself for the meeting. Unfortunately, the grey clouds that had been stalking the shoreline the entire time chose then to sweep in and threaten rain. Aster had snapped up, cursing and shoving his supplies into his bag. A moment later and he’d gone, the chance lost. 

I don’t know what that had been about, but I’ve caught snatches of conversation here and there between the Guardians since then that have confused me even more. Aster had said something at the Workshop to Sandy that had made them sound… old. They’d known Pitch before, a “long time ago”, long before I became me, which apparently wasn’t that long by their standards, so how long was long for them? A thousand years? Ten thousand?

I’m dying to ask, but wary of prying. We’re just barely friends. Asking how old someone is might be considered pretty rude. I don’t even know how old I am exactly. The loneliness I get though. Three hundred years has given me a few small moments of joy despite an ever-present misery. If it’s been longer than that for Aster, possibly much much longer, well, we’d have something in common then.

If I’m going to get to know him, or any of the other Guardians properly, I should really get to know myself first, I guess. Which means finding a safe place dive back into Jackson Overland’s past. I need my burrow for that.

Maybe if I understand myself a bit better, it’ll be easier, because right now, I’m not sure how well I can take his totally and completely justified rejection.

Coasting on the wind over the peaks below, I let the frigid air fill my lungs and strip away the exotic scents clinging to my clothes. The chill is calming and peaceful. 

I’ll sneak back into the Warren in a few days.


	7. Returning

Yeah, this is just perfect. Why does the universe hate me?

The winter burrow is in an area of the Warren that’s not often used. It slopes downward, deeper into the earth, making it cooler and more isolated than most of the others. And it only has one entrance connecting to the greater Warren. So of course, not far from that one entrance, Aster has decided to build a compost pile. A decaying heap of shattered eggshells and other trampled plant life being continuously added to by Bunny, who seems intent on working himself to death. 

Dammit, Aster, take a break, already!

Sighing, I shift on the rocky ledge, mostly out of sight of the pile. It’s been two hours. I suppose it doesn’t help that it’s just him. The sentinels don’t have hands. Why he doesn’t he build them hands I have no idea. He has rigged a few up with a sort of wheelbarrow that can be ferried back and forth, but actually collecting all the muck likely has to be done by Bunny himself. That would be fine for me, if he’d stay in the tunnels filling loads. He doesn’t. In typical form, he has to check and double check everything, mixing the shells with other matter to make it do its thing. If I asked him, he’d probably lecture me on the importance of balance and stirring and how it’s supposed to smell. 

Yeah. Compost is about as thrilling as watching someone shovel out their driveway after the plow’s come by. 

Taking a chance to peer down, I catch sight of him when his back is turned. He looks ok. His fur is dirtied by the muck he’s been working in, no bracers or bandolier in sight, but there’s a spring in his step. I wonder if he’s been eating? Bunny has a bad habit of getting so focused on work that he forgets other things, which is extra frustrating when I can’t get the nerve to do anything to help him. 

After I figured out the sparkly snowflake thing, I’d really wanted to try it on him. Distract him from his workaholic tendencies or just cheer him up a bit when he gets his Easter stress induced Grump on. The Grump peaks for roughly a month, winding down about a week before Easter when he starts to leave behind the dread of not-getting-everything-done and begins to look forward to his holiday. The day right before is the best, because they’re all so damn excited and hopeful. It’s pretty awesome. 

I couldn’t do it though. It was too risky. So it wasn’t until the first time I was officially invited into the Warren, that I finally chanced hitting him with one of my happy flakes. They’d been so hopeless with Sophie. I had to try then, and it worked! The day before Easter and I finally got to be a part of it. Until I made a mess of everything. 

Sometimes I wonder how different things might have gone if I’d let Tooth take Sophie home.

Shaking myself out of the memory, I go back to watching them work on the heap.

The stone eggs plod along steadily with their loads, never tiring. They look solid, and sometimes I think they’re magical and other times I think they’re just robots, but magical robots isn’t out of the question either. Bunny stretches himself out between stirring and loading, long limbs reaching high, outlining corded muscle beneath his fur. Is it weird that I want to pet him? I’d probably lose an arm if I tried. Aster works and mutters to himself for most of the morning and into the afternoon. Twice he pauses and sniffs at the air, peering around cautiously.

When he finally, _finally_ , leaves, I wait another hour out of sheer paranoia. 

My burrow is undisturbed. It’s been a while, so everything has melted and left the surrounding dirt moist and crumbly. The winter burrow is naturally cool, but not enough to maintain the deep freeze I put it in for more than a couple days without a boost. Tapping my staff on the ground, I let ice form along the floor and walls, creating a sitting nook the same place I always do. The room transforms from a musty, damp mess into a smooth, cold and clean den. 

I don’t need much really, aside from the flashlight that reflects off the frozen surfaces, lighting up the room. No visitors ever come here. Cooking isn’t really my thing either. My clothes stay mostly the same and the few things I have fill the shelves that are carved into the earthen walls, trinkets mostly and a plastic box with books. I hang my staff on the curve of ice jutting out of the wall for just that purpose and settle in.

After the first time I visited the Warren, I didn’t come back for a while, but eventually I couldn’t help myself. Summer was especially limiting and I’d had hundreds of years kicking around the Artic circle. I wasn’t welcome at the Workshop. Back then the Yetis had me pegged as a troublemaker and I’ve never been sure why the Egg Sentinels didn’t do the same. Anyway, I crashed in the Warren many summers, sleeping mostly, until I started following Aster and discovering the Southern hemisphere. Even since then, it’s rare for me not to be home for more than a week.

Home. It isn’t mine, but it feels more like home than anywhere else. I tried other places, long before the winter burrow. Snow dens, caves, abandoned buildings, an igloo once. They all had one thing in common, their isolation. Like I was underlining the fact that I was alone. They felt less like homes and more like prisons. Not just cold but dead too. Anywhere with people was even worse, because even though I wasn’t by myself I was still utterly alone, tensely waiting to be walked through yet again. The Warren was alive and energetic and welcoming, with the smiling sentries that accepted my presence and the giddy little egglets that would crawl all over me given half the chance. If my first real meeting with Bunny hadn’t been such a disaster… 

Stop it! You can’t change the past, I chide myself. That’s what Pitch wanted. He wanted me to focus on all the things I’d messed up, all the mistakes, and put the blame on everyone else simply not understanding. But the truth is, I did screw up. I made my own choices. Me. 

The tooth box sits heavily on my palm, gleaming with potential, a smirking face on the side that’s kind of surreal. I need to do this. Pitch had lit a fuse in me with that voice, _Jack_ , even as much as I hated myself for it. The possibilities made my chest ache. Maybe Jackson Overland was less of a mess than Jack Frost. At least he had a family who loved him.

I’m just not sure I want to remember being him, having those things, only to remember losing them too.

Well. You don’t know what you don’t know. It’s not fair to forget them. So I tap the box and the little diamond shapes flutter open, memories shimmering like moonlight on snow.


	8. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for warnings if you want to know what's coming.

The light from the box floods my senses, muting the burrow around me.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

_The carrot tastes muddy but I don’t care. Mama is laughing at me for sneaking one from the basket. Her apron is dirty and she wobbles a bit when she stands up. The baby will come soon. Both me and Ansel are hoping for another brother._

_“Father!” I try to hurry, but I almost drop the basket of shad when trip and stumble. I can’t keep up with my father’s long legs. He turns and smiles, lifting the load of fish from my hands. “You would do better if you’d wear your shoes like a sensible boy, Jackson.”_

_“This looks like a good place.” Mother points and Isaac throws his fistfuls of grass down. Ansel and I choose our spots too. We each build a nest for the “Oschter Haws”. Mine is the best because I’m oldest. I try to help Ansel but he won’t let me. Isaac cries when he’s told that we can’t check for eggs until after church tomorrow._

❄❄❄❄❄❄

Oh wow. I pull back and blink, the box fluttering shut. I had brothers. Two of them, sandy blonde like our father, and we used to make nests for the Easter Bunny. That’s… different. I remember the eggs, hard-boiled and in pastel colours. I helped peel them for Isaac. Ansel always insisted on doing it himself.

Apparently shoes were never my thing, even when I was alive. I grin at that. It feels good, like putting pieces of myself back into place that I didn’t realize were missing. I wish I could ask the Man in the Moon why he made me forget.

All those memories are from when I was pretty young though, younger than Jamie. My sister must not have been born yet. There have to be more, right up until my death I guess, because I’ve already seen that one. 

I stare down at the box intently. For the first time since Pitch tainted things, I’m eager for it. This time I stroke the box open and curl my thumb around the edge, dipping inside the box. I want to see everything.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

_Ansel says he’s going to tattle, but Isaac cheers. The rough bark bites into my feet and I manage to terrify a squirrel as I climb. I’m going to reach the very top today. I can already see the house. I’m almost there when I slip. A thick branch breaks my fall on the way down, knocking the breath from me, but I grab on tight and stop falling. “Told you!” Ansel cries. When I get down, I tickle him until he promises not to tell._

_Isaac keeps whining on the other side of the bed. I give Ansel a shove and he pushes back before rolling over and knocking into our brother. “Isaac, shh.” Isaac doesn’t answer. Instead he starts to cough and then vomits over the quilt. A few days later, the spots start to show._

_There are nearly a dozen of us sleeping in the Bausman barn. Almost half the town’s been taken by the pox. “It’s demons, I tell you,” says Thomas. “No, Father was cursing out a man from Boston. Remember the ‘smith that came through? He had it first,” says Eli. There’s quarantine now and we’re not allowed to go home. I can hear one of the boys crying, calling for his mother. “Quiet!” Eli hollers. I don’t think it’s fair to yell at the smaller boys. So I start telling stories instead. Everyone listens. There are no adults here to shush us. I know a few are really good, because the boys clap for me. I try hard to remember them so I can tell my brothers when I get home._

_“Jackson.” Father is quiet when he comes for me, grasping me with one hand and taking my small bag with the other. He’s got pox scars on his face and he doesn’t smile. The walk home feels longer than ever. Father’s arm is across my shoulders and he leans into me as we walk. He must be tired from being ill, especially since I haven’t been allowed back to help with the flock. When we get to the house, mother is waiting. Her face is swollen from crying. She hugs me tightly and I can feel her tears on my cheek. Ansel and Isaac aren’t there._

_I don’t like sleeping alone. The shadows in the loft are bigger now, darker and thicker than before. I don’t know why. Sometimes they move, crawling around the room. I can feel them in my dreams. It’s better when the sky is clear, because the moonlight comes in and chases them away. I huddle under the too thin blankets. Mother says she’ll make me a new quilt, but it won’t be the same._

_Father buries the new baby next to Ansel and Isaac. I scrub the moss off their stones. He turns to me then, leaning wearily on the shovel. “Mother will be fine, Jack. Sometimes…” he stops. I think Father might cry, but he swallows and rubs his beard instead. “God will take care of your brothers.”_

_Skates! Father got me skates! I balance for a moment, arms out, before I falter and sit down hard on the flat boulder. They’re too big and someone else has scuffed up the toes, but I love them. The extra stockings I’ve stuffed inside keep my feet from sliding around. I blink at the bright sun, happy that the air is cold and still. It’s a perfect day for skating. I can hardly sit still while I wait for Father to test the ice on the pond._

_When I come through the door, mother puts Rebekah in my arms. “Mother-“ She gives me a look that stills my tongue. The house is warm and something smells burnt. My sister squirms. Her gown is stained with brown drippings and she’s got flour in her hair. Bekah has just started to walk and is terrible for making a mess when Mother is cooking. I sigh and settle in a chair while she babbles, chewing on my cloak strings._

_Ha! From behind the barn I can see Eli standing by the open gate, yelling. He’s all red in the face. Serves him right. Maybe he’ll be nicer once he’s tired out a bit. I clap my hand over my mouth and try not to giggle as he dashes after the pig._

_I’m always stuck with her! I wish she would stay home, but she won’t. When she skips off to pick yet another flower, I lean against a tree seeking shelter in the shade. It’s too hot. I want to go swimming in the pond, but Mother says I’m not allowed when I’m watching Rebekah._

_It didn’t seem like a bad cut at first, when Father slipped and caught his leg with the axe. It’s gone strange now, though, all red and angry, and his fever won’t break. I stay in the loft with Rebekah, while the Surgeon tends to Father and Mother watches. There’s a lot of blood. Mother said we should go to the Adams house, but I’m not leaving again. My sister is asleep in my arms and we curl under the quilt together._

_Father said that when I was old enough, he’d have the crookmaker craft me my own stick. I’d been after him about it. Now Father’s crook is mine, heavy over my shoulder and difficult to swing. The twisted wood is strong, even if it isn’t as smooth and pretty as some sticks. The sheep seem unimpressed, but there’s only me so they’ll have to make do. I’m sure I’ll grow into it eventually._

_Mother doesn’t smile and Rebekah keeps crying. Telling stories doesn’t always work, but sometimes if I hide the spoons for the porridge or slip stones into their shoes, they’ll huff and smile a little, “Jack!”. Today, Mother has taken Bekah into town, so I tie her doll over the bubbling soup pot for her to rescue. When my sister comes through the door, she shrieks and frees her doll while Mother’s lips curl a little and she musses my hair. I grin until Bekah turns her wrath on me, chasing me around the house and cornering me so that she can pelt me with her doll. I have to promise to let her play with my whirligig to get her to stop._

_“You can do it, Bekah!” I’m right there, just underneath her, feet braced on one of the lower branches. “Jack!” It’s her first try at the tree. We aren’t too far up yet, but I don’t think my sister likes heights very much. She screams when I grab her around the waist and throw her over my shoulder, hopping to a lower branch before leaping to the ground. As if I would ever let her fall. She looks at me with wide eyes when I set her down. “You’re mad!” I stick my tongue out at her and cross my eyes. Bekah giggles, “Let’s play hopscotch!”_

_Lying back on the grass, I watch the clouds float by. A warm breeze ruffles my hair. The sheep are breeding and I know to stay well away. Mother smiles more now, but she doesn’t laugh like she did before Father died, before the baby that was never named, before Ansel and Isaac were taken by the pox… That’s fine though, because Bekah and I can make our own fun. I don’t think Mother wants another husband, and she won’t have to get married again if I can shepherd the flock, but it’s still four more years until I’m of age. At least it’s just the three of us to provide for._

_No! The ice was fine yesterday. It was fine! “It’s ok, It’s ok.” It has to be ok…_

❄❄❄❄❄❄

“Jack. Jackie, it’s all right.” No, it’s not! They died. I died. I left them alone! It’s not all right! My chest is heaving against the strong hold I’m in. “You’re in a panic, mate. I’ve got ya.”

Gasping in a lungful of air, Aster’s arms feel like they’re burning into me. Aster. What? How is he here?

“Bun-“, my voice croaks out his name, so I try again. “Bunny?”

“Yeah, Frostbite, it’s me.” He answers, cheek pressed up against mine. He’s hugging me from behind and the heat of his body warms my back. He doesn’t loosen his grip. “Can ya take it down a notch?”

Oh. The wind is whistling through, nearly whiting out the room with snow, and the ice is thick on the walls. I can see it continuing out into the tunnel. Oh no. How far did I freeze? 

Immediately, the wind seems to sense my shocked confusion and calms. Somehow I’ve moved from the nook to the floor. My tooth box has closed back up and is sitting forlornly on the other side of the room. Bunny must have pulled it out of my hands. Shaking a little, I force myself to let the temperature of the Warren start to seep back in. I’m exhausted.

It’s about all I can manage not to burst into tears right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t-“ But Aster isn’t interested in my apologies.

“Hush, now. We can talk later, yeah?” I nod wearily, and somehow he must know. He shifts and lets me lean back against him, one arm staying around my back and the other going under my legs. I can feel him lift me up, but after that everything goes black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning here for sensitive souls - this chapter contains memories from Jack's relatively common Colonial childhood. There nothing descriptively gory, but there are references to death from injury and infection, as well as a stillbirth. The memories are being shown chronologically. Jack dies when he is 17.


	9. Ache

I wake up alert and nervous. Trying to be still, the last thing I can remember is realizing that Aster was in my burrow. _Aster. In the winter burrow._ My heart sinks. At least I haven’t been thrown out yet.

Rubbing my face, I look around. I can’t see much. The room is dark, but not uncomfortably warm. Whatever I’m lying on is soft and smells green - it’s hardly even frosted. I must have really conked out. How long was I asleep? 

When I rise to my feet, I get light headed and flail a little, finding the wall for support. My head is pounding. Okay, too many memories at once probably. Definitely not thinking about that right now. I swallow down my grief and fumble around until I find the doorway. I’ve explored enough of the Warren to have a general feel for how things are laid out. The air here is fresh and walls are smooth, so finding an actual door only confirms what I already know. When I make it into Aster’s hall I can faintly hear voices nearby. 

It’s Bunny and someone else. I listen for a minute. Oh. 

Tooth. 

I pass a few more doors as I get closer – storage, library, Aster’s bedroom, and that strange room that looks like some kind of egg museum with the Easter Bunny Globe… If I turned and went the other way, the hall would curve around to the chocolaterie and its adjoining storage rooms. The doors are all closed except for the one leading into the larger sitting room. Bunny’s personal kitchen and larder are off the side of the main room, which really does seem to be mostly for sitting in and receiving visitors. Not that he ever has any, only one of the chairs looks like it’s seen any use, but I think he tries to keep it up. It usually has blooming plants decorating the ceiling and walls, at least it has the three times I’ve dared venture inside. Right now, it contains the Guardian of Hope and the Guardian of Memories.

Unfortunately, reaching the front door requires crossing to the other side. 

“Jack!” Tooth swoops forward as soon as I enter the sitting room. I catch a glimpse of green winding along the wall, but the lamplight is harsh, making me wince and step back. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Tooth keeps shifting in the air, her iridescent feathers shimmering and her fingers twitching, like she’s restraining herself from touching me. “You must feel awful! So many at once. What were you thinking?”

What was I-? Wasn’t I supposed to look? I thought that was the point. She never asked for them back.

“He doesn’t know what ya mean,” Aster says gruffly. “He’s been carrying that box around since Pitch. Probably had no idea.” 

Bunny meets my eyes then, arms crossed, leaning back against a chair. He seems tired. Tooth hovers by me, acting like I might shatter at any moment.

“I’m fine.” I try to wave her off. “Baby Tooth showed me before, after Pitch attacked us in Antarctica.” I don’t want her pity, but she pours it over me anyway.

“Oh, Jack! Baby Tooth explained when Aster contacted me. She guided you in - but that was just a glimpse. A glimpse! You were never meant to immerse yourself.” She’s darting around, all worked up. Bunny’s ears are twitchy and his eyes keep roaming over me, like he’s trying to figure something out. Maybe how long he has to endure my presence until he can safely evict me. Tooth, on the other hand, has apparently used up all her will power as she grabs me, zooming up close to my face.

“Does your head hurt? Can you see straight? Do you remember your name?” Yanking my chin out of her hand, I stumble.

“Jackson Overland.” My real name, not the one the Man in the Moon dropped on me right before 300 years of silence. The words tremble a little as I speak and suddenly I’m blinking furiously, staring at the floor. No way am I crying in front of them. Dammit. 

“Give him some room.” Aster’s blurry feet appear in my line of vision and he presses a glass of cold water into my hand. “Sit down, Jack.”

I gulp at the water and do as he says. His favourite chair is the green one, you can tell because the fabric on the arms is almost worn through, so I settle in another and pull my legs up to my chest. There’s a little stump-like table to the left that I can set my glass on. The headache recedes a bit but something still feels wrong. Then it hits me and my head snaps up.

“It’s right here.” Bunny sets my staff against the chair with a thock. Our eyes meet again when I reach out to grasp it. He’s not angry, but there’s something else and I’m really dreading finding out what. 

“Thanks.” I feel immediately better once I have my staff. I wonder if it really is the same crook or if it just looks like the one that I inherited when my father died. Maybe it doesn’t matter. I bow my head and press it against the cold wood. I can feel my frost feathering across my skin the clothes. It’ll probably coat the chair too, though I can’t imagine it’ll make much of a difference, just one more reason I don’t belong here.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tooth approaches tentatively. She’s so earnest. 

“No.” The headache lingers, but it’s nothing compared to the hurt that echoes in my chest. Of all the memories that have come back to me, it’s the last few that are the worst. In Antarctica, the knowledge that I’d died saving my sister, that I’d had a family that loved me, had given me what I’d needed to get back in the fight. Remembering that I’d been the last son and main provider for my family, and the hardship my death would have left Mother and Bekah with? I’d been so careless! If I’d checked the ice again that morning or if I’d gotten my skates on and gone out first to see the condition of the ice before Bekah was in the middle of it… None of it matters now, but I’m beginning to wish I’d never open the damned box in the first place.

An apprehensive silence descends on the room. I’m pretty sure the temperature has dropped a couple degrees, but neither of them complains. Tooth’s wings hum softly and then she and Bunny move quietly away. I can hear their murmuring in the kitchen on the other side of the sitting room. I wonder if he’s telling her about the burrow. Maybe she already knows. I’m tempted to take off and go flying. The lamplight is hard enough on my head though - the sun would probably make it explode. It has to be dark somewhere, but I don’t even know what day it is, let alone the time. The South Pole would be a safe bet at this time of year. The worst I’d get there would be twilight.

Tooth returns first.

“Jack, I’m going to take your tooth box back for now.” She pauses until I look at her. The smile she gives me is small and subdued. “I wish you’d asked me about it. You might have hurt yourself. I’d be happy to take you through them if you like, a few at a time. You don’t have to do things alone anymore, Jack.”

I nod and Tooth places a hand gently on my arm. 

“I’ve left instructions with Aster. He’ll come and get me if you need me. I’m not sure how long I can keep Baby Tooth away. Maybe a few days, unless you want her-“ She breaks off when I shake my head.

“No. Not yet.” This is going to be bad enough without an audience.

“All right, in a few days then. Take care, Jack.” The Tooth Fairy pauses to press a kiss against my hair and I can hear my baby teeth rattle with her movement. The buzz of her wings fades as she leaves, up out the front door.

I sigh and curl in on myself. Good job, Jack. You even managed to mess up the memory thing. I just want to go back to bed.

And that’s when Aster returns.


	10. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments everyone! It's much appreciated and very encouraging.

“Not very good at askin’ for things, are ya Jack?” Oh God. They _were_ talking about me.

“Aster, I-“ Bunny is already halfway across the room when I whip around to look at him. 

“Don’t.” He slumps into his chair, sitting opposite me wearily and staring at the floor very deliberately.

“You were out for nearly a week. You’re lucky I got hold of Tooth as fast as I did. I almost dragged ya to the Workshop for the yetis to fuss over.” Aster pauses and then glances up at my face. “It was a terrifying thing finding you like that, Jack. Must’ve been a good ten minutes before you so much as twitched.” 

I have to tear my eyes from his troubled expression. The light layer of ice on the chair makes it creak when I shift uncomfortably. Guilt muffles everything, like a heavy snowfall deadens the sound, because he’s actually worried about me and I’ve done nothing to deserve it. The ridges of my staff bite into my palms.

“I couldn’t understand why you’d hunkered down there of all places to view your memories, but when I went back for the box and your staff I could see your handiwork. It didn’t take much to figure out that wasn’t the first time you’d stayed there.”

“No.” There’s a stretch of quiet between us. He’s waiting for me to explain, but I don’t. It won’t matter. “Look, I’ll just go okay?”

“Jack-“ I’m up and over the chair in an instant, headache or not. I don’t check to see if he’s following me. I have to get out. Maybe if I leave now, we can avoid the inevitable explosion of pissed off Easter Bunny and eventually settle into a mostly civil relationship as fellow Guardians, because we’re sure as hell not going to be friends after this. Flinging the door open, I nearly slam into a Sentinel Egg. They’re packed along the front of Aster’s home, blocking my way completely.

I stumble back down the packed earth tunnel, “Let me out!”

“No. Yer not well.” Bunny is standing now, arms crossed again. I hate that I have to brace myself against the sitting room wall when the pain in my head surges for a moment. So I stand there and glare at him while it passes. Finally, Aster speaks.

“Why didn’t ya say something?” It’s the disappointed way he says it that sends a flash of annoyance through me. _Bloody Jack Frost._

“Yeah, you would have been so glad to see me right?” So much for civility. Goddamn you, Bunny. “Why didn’t you notice?” 

“What? Ya-“Aster sputters indignantly at me, balling his hands at his sides. I shove the ache away and push myself to stand. The mossy floor is crisp with frost under my feet when I gesture at him with my staff, forcing him to step back. 

“Not as all knowing about your Warren as you think, huh?” I smirk as Bunny’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Strewth, how long have ya been there?“ he asks in surprise. I know he’s upset, because his accent keeps getting stronger. 

“Since ’69, Kangaroo. It’s not like anyone else was using it. Guess you weren’t paying attention.” I plant the staff abruptly and hop up on it, sending tendrils of ice crackling across the floor.

“Stop that!” He shouts. 

“Ooops.” I jump down, swinging the crook around, swirling snow through the air. The flowers on the wall shudder and close. 

“Frost!” 

“Hey, here’s a thought – maybe you should let me out?” He should be kicking me down the nearest tunnel to the surface, but no, Bunny freaking growls and reaches in my direction. I dance away only to have his other hand snap out and grab my arm, yanking me close.

“No.” He bites out. “Yer just tryin’ ta rile me up and ya can stop it _**right now**_.” Bunny punctuates the last two words by shaking me a little and then thrusting me away. I’m a little shocked as Aster is visibly sucking in air and trying to calm down.

“I’ve had the better part of a week to curse yer trespass while ya were sleepin’ Jackie.” The glare he sends my way actually seems more hurt than angry now. “Bloody hell. Ya shoulda said something.”

“Why?”

“Jack-“ 

“You think I’m an idiot?”

“Yer not-“

“You never let people into the Warren-”

“I-“

“- and you _hated_ me.”

“I don’t-“

“You would have beaten me senseless!”

“Pig’s Arse! I would not.” He growls again and throws up his hands. Liar. 

“Easter ’68.” I fling the barb at him, a reminder of the first mess I’d started everything with. We’re almost nose-to-nose now and I wonder if he’ll take the swing he didn’t after I screwed up this past Easter too.

“No.” Aster meets my eyes fiercely. “No, Jack. We’re long past that now.” 

“Yeah, we’re real mates, right Kangaroo?” I spit the words out, expecting him to go back to yelling at me some more, but instead Bunny goes very still, his gaze boring into mine. 

“I thought we were.” The words drop like a weight into my chest. “It’s not been long, but yeah. Mates.”

Mates. 

_Friends._

The fight goes out of me then. My stomach sinks through the floor, the urge to flee going with it. Swaying, pain surges across my temples again and the green of the room blurs. I think I might be sick. Aster reaches out to hold me tentatively by the shoulders and I let him. When he speaks, his voice is rough with concern.

“Ya coulda told me, Frostbite. I know we haven’t always gotten on, but after everything with Pitch…” Bunny trails off. He’s right. I know he is. I should have said. 

“I’m sorry. I- I didn’t see how… I mess up everything, Bunny. I’m no good at talking to people.” I slump forward and end up with my face in the softness of his ruff. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Do ya know how many decades, how many centuries I’ve spent at a time without talking to anyone but myself?” Aster pats my back awkwardly. “I know I’m a grumpy old codger. Ya think I’m going to judge you?”

The sound that emerges from me is a bit strangled, because yes, that’s exactly what I was expecting. 

“I thought ya didn’t care before.” He explains. “That it was all about _your_ fun and damn consequences. Seems pretty clear to me now that that’s not the case, eh?” 

I manage a pretty weak headshake against the softness of his fur. Any second now he’s going to push me off.

“Besides, it’s not like ya trashed the place or mucked about with the googies.” Aster probably checked that with ruthless efficiency while I was sleeping. I want to tell him that I never would - that the Warren is amazing and I like it way too much to ever do anything to hurt it. Somehow, I can’t seem to let myself have nice things.

“I used to watch you.” The words fly out of my mouth. Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.

“I figured,” he sighs. “We got a lot to talk about we do, but you need to rest. I should’ve waited to say anything. Sorry, mate.”

I want to answer, but I can’t, because it’s all just too much. This can’t be happening. Nothing good like this happens to me. Even in my memories things go wrong. I’ve gone tense and I realize from Aster’s tight hold that he’s half expecting me to try and take off again, but I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Not when things might actually be at least a little bit okay.

“C’mon, Jackie. Let’s get you back to bed.”


	11. Apologies and Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay – so this chapter kind of got away from me and I had to hack out bits and do some rewriting because it went off on unnecessary tangents. It’s still pretty long. I have to post it now though or I’ll revise it into oblivion. There’s so much to say here and I’m also blending in a little bookverse. Maybe I’ll save up those bits and do a follow up short story about Aster and Jack discussing how he went from E. Aster Bunnymund lone logical Pooka to Bunny the Australian boomerang wielding badass?

“So, I made a list.” Aster’s ears twitch towards me and he looks askance at where I’m sitting. “It starts with Easter ’68.”

Aster turns fully around then, spoon in hand. We’re sitting in the kitchen and he’s making some kind of soup. I’ve eaten more in the past week than I have in decades. 

“I totally would have apologized right then if you’d stopped throwing things at me for a minute. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I didn’t even know I could do that! So I’m saying sorry now.” I gesture at the page on the sturdy oak table. It’s worn and well loved, knotty and shaped in a fashion that you wouldn’t find in any human dwelling. “It’s number one, right at the top.”

“You don’t need a list, Frostbite.” Aster shakes his head at me, which he seems to do a lot now. He looks fond when he does, I think. I hope. It’s a big improvement over his previous reflex involving yelling and throwing things. I’m still getting used to it. Okay, back to my terrible handwriting.

“And then there’s trespassing, breaking and entering, and inciting treason amongst your minions - not that they’re listening to me now. Theft too. Man you make a lot of chocolate and wow, seriously, just wow. Oh, and abandoning my post last Easter…”

“Stop.” Bunny holds up a hand, or paw, whatever. “Jackie, look. You made mistakes. You’re not the only one. It happens and Pitch’s preying on you makes for mitigating circumstances as far as I’m concerned.”

I’d had a vicious nightmare two nights ago and disjointedly sobbed the whole ordeal in Pitch’s lair into Aster’s fur. Until then, I think I’d been too exhausted from the tooth box incident to work myself up that much. My memory of it is pretty hazy. No influence from Pitch, just my own issues. The crushing guilt over failing the fairies must have been festering in my subconscious, waiting for its chance to surge forward. Bunny didn’t say anything to me about it afterwards, sympathetic glances aside. He’s more about action than words. Baby Tooth had shown up the next day to fuss over me, and the following two nights my sleep had been dusted in golden sand. 

“But-“ I need to start making things right. Beginning with Bunny makes sense. That’s what friends do, isn’t it? 

“How ‘bout this?” Aster thunks down a couple of large spoons on the table, along with a plate of brown nutty bread. “I’ll accept your apology on the condition that you don’t hide things from me anymore, not in the Warren anyway. Agreed?”

“But I’m already doing that!” His ears twitch and he grimaces, rubbing a hand across his face.

“Fine. You can also help me sort out the compost pile ya froze solid.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I nod. All right. That’s actually something I can do. “I could do the tunnels too, and maybe-“

“Oh fer - Yer not doin’ penance, Frostbite!” Aster snaps at me. Then he sighs and shakes his head again. Not so fond now, maybe.

“Ya know,” He begins, leaning back against the counter, eyeing me speculatively. “If ya like the chocolate so much, I’ll make a test subject out of ya. I haven’t had one of those in ages.” 

“Really?” Awesome! Bunny nods with a smile. He makes a lot of amazingly good chocolate. I can’t see a downside to that job at all.

He’s taken the soup from the heat and begins to ladle it into bowls. We’re quiet a while then. I think we’re both more used to silence than the others. Both North and Tooth surround themselves with their helpers and talk a lot. Sandy may only communicate in symbols, but I think the dreams he crafts and hears are nearly constant. Aster’s a bit of a hermit by his own admission. I never really had a choice.

“You still haven’t said how ya ended up living in the Warren in ’69 or why you decided to stay.” And there it is. Bunny’s been giving me a lot of room since the first day I woke up, but I knew when I brought out the list how this afternoon would go. He hasn’t pushed, waiting for me to do what I should have done in the first place instead. Mostly I’ve been sleeping and eating whatever he seems to think I need for this unending headache to go away. It’s hardly noticeable now. “Didn’t the sentries scare ya off?”

“Umm, no?” Aster levels a look at me that conveys the complete inadequacy of my response.

“Okay. Well, when I first fell down here - didn’t mean to, I swear - I was trying to catch you so I could apologize. I hardly ever saw other spirits. I just wanted to talk to you. I got sucked inside though and when you got back, well, you didn’t seem like you’d want to be friends.”

Bringing the bowls to the table, he nods for me to continue before he goes back to tidy up the counter.

“I was stuck, so I found the coldest tunnel I could and made it mine. I remember trying to avoid your sentries and then crashing smack into one. I was expecting them to be like the yetis. They pretty much hated me on sight. The Egg Sentinels gave me a once over and deemed me mostly harmless, I guess. They eventually took pity on me and showed me how to trigger some of the entrances. I wasn’t planning to live here, but summers are hard. I didn’t have any way to get south back then, so sleeping in the winter burrow was better than going between extreme boredom and angry yetis in the arctic. And I just liked it. The egglets are fun and they actually like seeing me. Not that I get in the way of their work.” I hold my hands up, making the universal gesture for I-didn’t-touch-anything. “The Sentinels pretty much ignore me.” 

Aster’s expression falls somewhere between exasperated and amused. 

“Hey,” I shrug. “They’re your magical robots.”

“Ain’t nothin’ magical about the buggy things.” Ha! My grin must catch his attention, because now he’s eyeing me suspiciously, ears twitching. “Ya didn’t try to take one apart, did you?”

“No! No. Definitely not. I’m way too inept for that.” Aster gives me a disapproving look as he settles into the chair opposite. 

I slurp some of the soup. The bowls and spoons are wooden and not all that different than the ones I grew up with, worn smooth with use. Staring down at the rich broth, it doesn’t taste like I expect it to. I try it again. It’s missing something, but whatever it is I can’t remember. I drop the spoon in frustration and it clatters against the tabletop. Why? Why can I only remember the things I’d rather forget? 

Aster reaches across and puts his hand on mine. There’s already frost creeping along the tabletop from my frozen bowl.

“Sorry.” I can feel my face flush. My emotional control has been shot since I freaked out over my memories. 

“No worries, mate.” The sympathy in his tone only makes me feel worse. I’ve been trying really hard to forget. I desperately want to know what happened to my mom and sister, but I’m dreading finding out too. Given how things usually go for me, it can’t be good. “Anything I can help with?” 

“Tooth said she’d help me go through-“ 

“I know,” Aster’s eyes pass over me like my thoughts are written on my skin in big block letters. “But it’s weighing on ya already. You’ve remembered everything you had and lost it all at the same time. I know a bit about that, grieving and moving on.“

This is Aster’s indirect way of inviting me to talk, but I don’t want to. I feel like if I voice the words, it’ll make all my worries real and I’ll have to do something about it. I want to cram the memories back into the teeth I can’t remember losing and forget again. I know it’s a futile wish. Maybe insulting too, to try and pretend my life didn’t happen. I wish I’d put the box back into the archives at the palace and left it at that.

Bunny withdraws his hand and rises, ”I’ll get you another bowl.” Watching him turn his back, I catch him rubbing his hands together to warm them. The lamplight is still dimmed from when my headache was at its worst and Aster’s grey fur looks gorgeously soft. I’m a little mortified to realize that what I really want is another hug. 

_C’mon, Jack. Who else are you going to tell? You’ve blubbered all over him already. Isn’t this what you were hoping for to start with?_

Aster seems to sense a shift in my mood, because when he brings another serving he comes around next to me. He doesn’t sit on a chair. Instead, he rests on his haunches, ears angled attentively. We’re just about eye level. 

“Jack-“ Whatever he’s going to say, however he’s going to try and make it better, it won’t. Instead I cut him off as the words come out in a rush.

“I left them alone.” The statement sounds like it was wrung out of me. Swallowing hard, I focus on the table and the curve of the grain in the wood. Bunny puts his hand on top where I can reach. I try not to be too desperate in grabbing it, but I wrap my fingers around his and hold on.

“My little brothers, and my father, they died when I was younger. Back then there wasn’t much in the way of medicine. I think my Dad died from an infection. With my brothers it was smallpox. I don’t know how I missed getting it too. I should have. We all slept in the same bed.” I should have, but I didn’t. It took falling through the ice to kill me and even then I didn’t die a proper death, did I?

“After my father passed, I was the oldest and the only boy left. I was doing most of the work tending the flock, supporting my mother and Bekah, my sister.” I was going to take care of everything.

“I was careless though. They needed me there and I messed up-” I can’t bring myself to finish. Aster sits silently with me. I can tell he’s confused. I haven’t explained things very well. Still, he doesn’t push.

“I as good as abandoned my family and I don’t even know what happened to them, because I didn’t remember, you know? Or I would have…” The tears come then, freezing and crackling on my cheeks. I’m gripping his hand tightly. The pads of his fingers are warm even as his fur is dusted with frost. His eyes are so vividly green when they meet mine. I’m grateful that they look at me more with empathy than pity.

“Dumb, huh?” My attempt at a wry smile fails spectacularly. “Crying over something that happened three hundred years ago?” 

Aster blinks at that. 

“Three _centuries_?” Huh. I’d kinda assumed they’d known, but maybe not?

“Yeah,” I shrug. “I- I died about three hundred years ago, give or take a bit.”

“What?” He exclaims harshly. “Yer not dead.”

“I-“ I’m not sure what to say. After regaining the memory of falling through the ice, I’d just assumed…

“No.” There’s that shaking of the head again. “That’s not how it works. I’d know if ya were.”

“But,” For some reason I’m clinging to the idea, “I don’t need to eat or sleep.”

“You sleep in your burrow don’t ya? You eat when you feel like it?” Aster raises and eyebrow and cocks his head questioningly.

“Well, yeah, but not often.”

“That’s just being a spirit. Rules are different.” He waves a dismissive hand at me. “Dead is dead.”

“Aster, I fell through the ice and drowned.” His eyes go wide then. “That’s how I became Jack Frost.”

“What?!” Bunny leans in close and stares. “That’s not- Ya fell through the ice a human and woke up a spirit?”

The incredulous note to his voice is making me more than a little wary.

“Yes?”

“Bloody-“ Bunny mutters several rather colourful curses I don’t entirely understand. “Explain again, Frostbite. Please.”

So I do. I tell him about the ice and how I should have checked more carefully, how I hadn’t even gotten my skates on before it had begun to crack under Bekah’s feet. How I managed to save her by dooming myself. How I fell through and everything went black. I tell him how the first memory I had for a long time was waking up and seeing the moon, hearing the Man in the Moon call my name: Jack Frost. And then nothing. No contact, no direction, nothing. For three hundred years.

Aster growls something I don’t quite make out. I get the impression that the only reason he isn’t pacing is because of the death grip I have on his hand.

“Is it- Is it a bad thing, what I am?” His head snaps back to me.

“No, Jack. There’s nothing wrong with ya. All right?” He’s so intent and concerned that it makes me go a little wobbly. ”It just makes no bloody sense. Maybe Ombric would know. He’s the wizard that taught North. Manny shouldn’t have been able to do that Jack, certainly not from up on the moon. He couldn’t even talk to anyone properly ‘cept at the Lamadary and sometimes through moonbeams. But to change you when you were near death…”

“Change me to what?”

“A spirit, I expect. Maybe an elemental, but you’re a bit too human still for that. Transformation’s not supposed to happen that way. When was it again? When did ya fall through the ice?”

“Ummm, early seventeen hundreds, I think.” I’d lost track of the actual date to be honest. I suppose now I can go find my own headstone.

“I didn’t even meet the others for nearly a hundred years after that. Not properly anyway.” Huh. I’d thought they’d all known each other for much longer. I guess even if they’d been around hundreds of years, it didn’t mean they’d talked to each other. 

“Where,” I cough nervously, ”Where were the rest of you?”

“Aww, Frostbite.” Aster responds knowingly. “Mostly in Asia and Europe. I spent nearly all my time at Easter Island then, as solitary as I could manage. Toothiana was in Southeast Asia. She’d been zipping around the world and picking up teeth for centuries, but the fairies did most of the actual travel. North, Katherine and Ombric lived at Santoff Claussen until the Workshop was built. North was still mortal when we met, which would have been after you were changed.”

“So you didn’t know-?” My question hangs in the air, weighty with unease. Would it feel any better if they didn’t know, if they hadn’t deliberately ignored me and instead simply been carelessly ignorant of my existence?

“No, Jack. I hadn’t heard of ya until ’68 fell on my head, but I’ve always kept to myself. The others maybe knew you from my rumblings and I thought you were a recklessly indifferent brat of an ice elemental. Sandy was asleep until about two hundred years ago, and he said he’d caught glimpses of you, but ya never stuck around. Not sure about Tooth.” Bunny scratched his head thoughtfully. “North didn’t know you’d even been to the pole until you mentioned trying to break in, though I wonder that the list didn’t make him curious. He did recognize you when your likeness showed up as the next chosen Guardian. S’pose we can ask at the meeting.” 

Not three hundred years then, and North hadn’t been watching me on the list all this time. He hadn’t even become Santa until much later. They really didn’t know and I’d made such a bad impression. If I’d talked to Sandy, or not completely botched Easter in ’68, maybe things would have been different.

“I did see Sandy sometimes, or his sand anyway. I don’t know why I didn’t try talking to him. Maybe-” 

“Maybe we all could have done things a bit different, but there’s no changing the past.” Aster gives my hand a squeeze. “You’re a good bloke, Frostbite. I never hated you. I’m sorry that it ever felt that way.”

He gives me a slightly awkward side hug and I realize Aster’s probably not any more used to tactile contact than I am, but he’s been trying this whole time, for me. 

“So,” He clears his throat and draws back a little, ”Your Winter Burrow, yeah?”

“My burrow?” It’s not mine, I know that.

“Well, I’m sure as hell not using that deep freeze for anything.” I laugh weakly and Aster huffs. “C’mon then. Let’s nut this out. If you’re staying here, we should have ground rules.”

_Staying._

“Right,” I flip over my page of “Things to apologize to Aster for” and begin a new list. “No frosting, icing, snowing, sleeting, wind or other weather alteration without express permission. No disturbing your Easter preparations. No mucking with the rivers. No letting googies where they aren’t supposed to be or out the tunnels early. No guests - that won’t be hard. No-“

“That’s a whole lot of no you’ve got there, Frostbite. You know you can come see me in my burrow, right? Eat with me if ya want?” Bunny looks at me piercingly. I nod when I realize he’s waiting for a response. “Good. Maybe you can manage some dishes without freezing the water.”

I laugh out loud then at his cynical grin, no doubt fully expecting me to ditch dish duty. I’ll show him. I’m not leaving any more messes behind me. I’m staying!

“Finish your supper.” Aster harasses me into eating the soup and mopping up the dregs with bread. He refuses to actually let me wash the dishes, but he does allow me to dry. Standing elbow to elbow, we quickly and quietly finish the chore. Considering where we started, it should feel strange how easily we’ve fallen into this relaxed companionship. It doesn’t.

It feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack does reference 300 years in the movie, but it's when he's first been called to the workshop. 
> 
> "After 300 years this is his answer? To spend eternity like you guys cooped up in some hideout thinking of new ways to bribe kids? No, no, that's not for me. No offense."
> 
> Unsurprisingly, offended and pissed off Bunny does not zero in on the 300 years as much as he does the backhanded insult.


	12. Closure

“Unca Jack! Unca Jack!” Sophie dissolves into giggles when she latches onto my leg.

“Huh?” I stumble in. First frost has already fallen on Burgess and their mom is outside in the garden, belatedly wrapping up the shrubbery. The house isn’t too warm though, mostly because of trying to keep the costs down I suspect. Money is tight in the Bennett household. I do my best to keep any mayhem outside the house as a result.

Sophie is giggly and hyper, which is typical these days, but Jamie isn’t rolling his eyes at her antics. He’s practically vibrating.

“Finally! C’mon. I gotta show you this.” He motions for me to follow him, so I pick Sophie up and climb the stairs to his room.

“Take a look.” Jamie turns the screen in my direction. The used computer is a recent addition and apparently only for schoolwork, so no games. North may or may not be helping undermine that restriction come Christmas. Not that I’ve made suggestions or anything. “I’ve been working on it for a while. Mom’s pretty impressed by my interest in local history.”

I drop Sophie on the bed and lean over his shoulder. I’d mentioned computers to Aster and the possibility of getting one for the burrow. He’d scoffed at the idea and shoved me down a tunnel and into one of the junk rooms, if you consider ancient highly advanced alien technology junk. The Pooka thing – now that had been an enlightening conversation. I think I understand him much better now, since spending this past summer together. 

Jamie closes his email and maximizes a window filled with little boxes. There, laid out across the screen, is a sprawling family tree with notes from church records and land deeds. Jamie (James William Bennett) and Sophie (Sophie Rose Bennett) are listed at the very bottom and up near the top, off to the side is-

“That’s me.” Jackson Overland. Mother and Father are there too, though not my grandparents. Ansel, Isaac and Rebekah and I are listed beneath them. The unnamed baby has left no trace, probably because he was never baptized. It’s Rebekah’s record I focus on, checking the dates. Married with kids and sixty-three when she died. Thank God.

“Yeah! Look. Your sister married Heinrich Bausman, and then their daughter Anna married George Bennett, and their son’s descendants go straight down through my dad to me.”

“You-“ Words fail me as I stand back. “You’re my…” I’m pretty sure I’m staring, but I can help but search him for signs of Bekah.

“Great, great,” Jamie peers at the screen attempting to count the generations, “yeah, a lot of greats, but I’m totally your nephew! Sophie’s your niece and there are a lot of other branches to the tree I haven’t even filled in yet. Your sister had, like, seven kids. At least four of them got married and had kids too, so you probably have lots of relatives.”

I must look as shocked as I feel, because Jaime watches me with a worried little frown.

“Unca Jack!” Sophie, who has been jumping on the bed, takes advantage of my distraction to launch herself into my arms.

“Whoa, Sophie.” I catch her and she flings her arms around my neck, shoving her face under my chin and wrapping her legs around me. I feel a bit shaky and sit down on the bed. “Uncle Jack, huh?”

“Yeah. That’s ok, right?” I nod to reassure Jamie, who then springs out of the chair and settles next to me, leaning against my side. “Cool.”

I take a couple deep breaths and blink away the tears. Bekah was fine. Good even. Seven kids, maybe others, and she was healthy enough to live to see her grandchildren. Bausman. I remember Farmer Bausman and his wife being kind during the pox. I might have other memories of their family if I ever take Tooth up on her offer to guide me through them again. I wonder if Jamie has any idea how much- 

Wait.

“Jamie, did Aster ask you to do this?”

“Who?” Jamie asks, perplexed. Oh yeah. 

“Bunny, I mean.”

“Bunny, hop, hop, hop!” Sophie exclaims, tugging on the strings of my hoodie.

“Oh.” Jamie flushes. “Well, he did mention you never found out about what happened to your family, and gave me some information and ideas. So, I guess so. I told my mom it was a school project and the librarian helped a lot. I was just going to find out what happened to Rebekah Overland and her kids, but then the librarian showed me your sister’s daughter’s marriage records, and I had to find out if that Bennett was the same as our Bennett and it was!” 

Jamie looks so completely thrilled by his discovery that I can’t help but laugh.

“Do you like it?” He asks, looking up at me hopefully.

“It’s awesome, Jamie. Good work.” I reply, meaning every word. I ruffle his hair and he scowls at me. Giving me a playful shove, he goes back to the computer and sits down, pulling a spiral bound notebook from the shelf. Sophie continues to cling, releasing my strings and going through my pockets.

“I’m totally going to finish the rest. I have more notes and my teacher says I can turn it in as a special project. Some of the other kids are doing family trees now too. Pippa’s last name is Bausman, so maybe she’s related somehow? Her grandpa said her family has been in the area for generations. We’re going to trace your sister’s sons down and see.”

Jamie continues to chatter on about descendants and his friends. I smile and nod, making encouraging noises when he pauses. It’s perfect. Somehow Aster managed to find a way to get me what I needed without having the others fuss over my “tragic circumstances”. If Jamie had found something horrible, he probably never would have told me either. Suddenly, Sophie grabs the front of my hoodie and surges up, nose against mine.

“Easter Bunny - hop?” Her hair is half over her face, perpetually covering one eye even though I know her mother puts barrettes in. Sophie seems to think they suit her dolls more than they do her. I shift her back so I don’t go cross-eyed looking at her. I really need a camera. A photo of her hopeful face would have Aster up here in an instant.

“Not today, sorry. I’ll tell him you miss him, ok?” 

“Bunny come!” Sophie huffs in a very Aster-like fashion and I try desperately not to giggle at her seriousness. 

“Soon. I promise.” It takes me another half an hour to pry her off and give Jamie the few other local family names and history that I remember. Then I’m out the window. 

Gliding on the wind, I circle over the town. The fall weather is comfortable, the turning leaves beautiful as they rustle in the breeze. I fly towards my lake out of habit. I always thought of it as mine, long before I had any idea why, and ended up back here no matter where I travelled. It looks lonely in the fading light, but I don’t stop. Continuing on, I swoop over the treetops and land in a clearing. There’s a white aster swaying slightly in the grass. Must be late. Thumping the ground three times, I leap into the tunnel as it swirls open. Time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the story of Jack and his winter burrow. Thanks for all the comments an encouragement everyone! I really enjoyed writing it. There will likely be a few followup side stories once I've finished the Avengers AU and something else I'm working on.


End file.
